One Thousand And One Nights
by The Karnstein
Summary: One extremist's act of violence ended the lives of many. But even in the event of her death, one little girl's wish for adventure and companionship may still be granted.
1. Prologue

**One Thousand and One Nights**

_**Author's Note**: I will confess that "sucked-into-video-game" styled stories have always been a guilty pleasure of mine. My only complaint is that they always tend to follow the same formula. With that in mind, I am going to try and switch things up a bit with this story. I hope you enjoy it, and regardless of the feedback being good or bad, I would love to hear your thoughts._

**PROLOGUE**

By the time you are nine-years-old, you are already considered a woman. In my mother's country, you could already be married off at that age. You could live in a house with your husband's family, you could bare children, and you can consumate your marriage even before you are of a mature age. Alas, I am not nine, I am not married, and in many respects, I'm not yet a woman. At least, I've never felt that way.

To be perfectly honest, I've always felt like a child. My family may have disciplined me into being quiet and intelligent, to pray five times a day to Allah, to read the Qur'an and wear the hijab, and always to get good grades, but I've always felt this longing for adventure. They wanted me to grow up quickly so I would have a future that was every bit as special and important as the ones promised to other American children. But during my studies, my mind would always wander to imaginary worlds of castles, dragons, fairies, and of knights and princesses that banded together to save the day.

And that feeling would build in my chest: warm and comforting, so light that it can almost lift you off your feet, whispering promises of laughter and happiness to come. It isn't easy being a Muslim in a sixth grade class full of conservative Christians, girls with gothic make up, or boys with their pants worn so low that their underwear shows. Despite how different they all are from each other, all of them were the same in their treatment towards me. At the very least, my imagination would offer feelings of companionship. Close friends who would accept me for who I was and not for what I wore or how many times I had to stop and pray throughout the day. At least, when I had finished my homework and had the time to write and draw in my notebooks, I could return to that imaginary place of peace and happiness. And sometimes, as childish as it may sound, I would pretend that such a place existed.

Then I was killed.

At least, that's what I think happened.

The nicest aspect of imagination is that, in your own world, there are no Islamophobes. There are no people who want you dead simply because you are Muslim. You don't have to worry about stepping into the mosque and some scary man driving a van full of explosives into the building. He wanted to take out as many Muslims as he could, and one of them was me.

Everything happened so suddenly that it's hard to recall exactly how it happened. I remember hearing glass shattering. The doors leading into the mosque were made of glass, so I assume that was where the van drove into the building. There was the sound of doors being broken down, or wood snapping, and then the blast. I was the closest to the wall where the explosion went off. I remember feeling something smash against the side of my head and I briefly remember the heat that followed. There was nothingness for awhile: I could not see, think, or hear anything that was happening around me. I could not feel anything anymore. The best way I can accurately describe it would be a black out. Because it happened so quickly, I did not have time to register whether or not I was dead.

I reached that conclusion when I woke up here. The Qur'an describes paradise as a place of large trees, sweet water, and pure soil of musk. The dwellers of heaven would not feel the excessive heat of the sun, nor the excessive cold of the moon. It is a realm of magnificence.

This afterlife did not fit that exact description. There were trees larger than any I have seen in this life. There was water, beautiful and sweet, with the ability to heal me if I were hurt, or provide me with energy when I was weary. There was soil so pure that flowers and plants of all kinds could grow. It was indeed a realm of magnificence, but also a realm of both wonder and ruin.

There were times that were heartbreaking. There were moments where I was sure I was going to die a second death. There were moments where we would walk and walk and walk with no chance of knowing if we would ever truly reach our destination.

But there were moments of happiness and laughter. There were moments where we could laugh about the hardships we had just overcome. And there was that feeling of acceptance. I had found people who did not hate me for what I wore or what I worshipped.

Before I continue with my story, I should introduce myself:

My name is Nasira. I was twelve-years-old when I died and woke up on the Mist Continent.


	2. Chapter One

**One Thousand and One Nights**

**CHAPTER ONE**

At the time, I did not know that I was on the Mist Continent. I had no idea that such a place existed, or that one could randomly appear in a place like Evil Forest. Despite the scary name, I remember the forest being quite beautiful. Had it not been for the monsters that dwelled there, I might have taken time out of my day to return to visit and explore. There was something remarkable about that place despite the monsters and other dangers. Despite the trees and the heavy mist blocking out the sun, everything seemed to illuminate all around me. I was never in pitch darkness. It was as if the plants and the water seemed to generate a glow and light of their own.

I was found in a remote part of the forest where the monsters did not visit. I don't remember how I arrived there. Following the explosion at the mosque, I think I fell asleep or was knocked out. When I woke up, I was laying face down on wet grass and moss, and I could not move. I couldn't even see, but I recognized the smell of dirt and grass. At this point, I'm not sure what surprised me the most: the fact that someone had actually bombed us, or the fact that my face was in the dirt. Our mosque was nowhere near a forest or even a field. How did I end up outside?

The grass was wet. I could feel my clothes dampen and my body shiver, but my head was warm... and sticky. I could barely move my fingers and my body hurt too much for me to roll over or sit up, so I couldn't touch my face. But it felt as though the water or moisture from the ground was warmer near my head.

Then I recognized the smell of blood. And it slowly started sinking in. The water or dew wasn't warm on my skin: my blood was. I was bleeding. My head was bleeding. Oh God, what happened? How bad was it? I couldn't see, I couldn't even move my arms to touch my face. What did I look like? Was I scarred forever? Was half of my face gone? And if this is what happened to me, then what happened to my parents? What happened to Mother and Father? Were they hurt too? Or were they...?

In a panic I started to cry. Whenever I feel I'm about to cry I try to hold back, but today my sobs were long and loud. I wanted someone to hear me. I wanted my parents to find me. I don't know where I was or what condition I was in, but I so badly wanted someone to save me and tell me I was fine, and that my parents were fine.

And that's when I heard him for the first time.

"Geez! Hey, are you okay?"

I was too distraught to stop crying, but I heard him over my cries. And then I heard footsteps. I could feel the vibrations through the ground as several pairs of feet came running my way, one of which was accompanied by a strange _"clank clank clank" _sound. Metal? Was it some kind of tool? Maybe they were digging someone out from under all the rubble of the building with it? In any case, I felt a pair of hands on my back and then felt them move under me. With no effort at all, I was pulled off of the ground and rolled over onto my back.

"Oh man, this ain't good. Vivi, Rusty! Toss me a potion!"

A potion. It seemed so strange to me at the time. I think I actually stopped crying in my surprise. Here was my savior, a boy from the sound of it, maybe someone who just jumped out of an ambulance, asking for a potion. And what's more, the other person actually responded to him.

"I have one." this voice sounded younger, maybe my age. Was it one of the little boys from the mosque? Why would he bring a potion to the mosque? "Is she gonna be alright?"

"Thanks, Vivi. I think so. This'll help..." I couldn't see, but this was the first boy again. In fact, I think I was too afraid to open my eyes. The blood was all over my face. Not only did I not want any in my eyes, but maybe I didn't want to see what I looked like either. It was all too much for me. "Hang in there, sweetie. We'll clean you up... uh... well, how do you get this thing off?"

My heart almost dropped in my chest. Now was not really the time to worry about modesty, but when his hands started tugging at my hijab, I felt my little body tense up. From what I could understand, there were at least two boys here and no lady in sight. Mother was very strict about covering our hair in the presence of other men. But surely, in this moment, maybe Allah would understand. After all, this boy was trying to help me, wasn't he?

"Aha! There is it! You pinned this up good, didn't you?" I felt the cloth around my face loosen as he pulled the pins from the hijab. And then he unwrapped the scarf from my head. It was then I felt his hands jerk away from me in an instant. "Oh sh...! Come on, girl. I'm just gonna move you over by the spring. We're gonna wash you up, okay? You got a big nasty wound right there-"

He barely got the words out before I started crying again. With the hijab removed, I could actually feel the blood pumping out from my right temple. In a hurry, I felt him pick me up, scurry a couple feet away from where I was laying, and then put me back down again. The other footsteps and the _"clank clank clank!"_ followed behind us.

"You blithering idiot! Have you no tact? That is no way to talk to the wounded!" this was a new voice. It was older, still male, but spoke with a rather strange voice. It wasn't so much of an accent more than it was... old fashioned. Like something out of a story book.

"Just shut up and help me out over here! I'll wash off her face and you give her the potion!" the boy who carried me snapped back. Within a few moments, I felt a new set of hands holding me up.

A felt a very cold cloth against my face. I winced and frowned as my savior wiped away the dirt and blood from my face. After that, he started dabbing at the wound. I whimpered and sniffled, but he he kept talking to me, trying to keep me comfortable and calm, telling me over and over again that it was going to be alright. I almost didn't believe him. I thought for sure that I was a goner. I certainly didn't know Zidane Tribal very well. Once he made a promise, there was no way he was going to break it.

"Okay, that should do it. Give her the stuff." he said while holding the cloth against the wound. Suddenly I felt a glass bottle against my lips.

"Please try to drink it all, miss." the older voice said to me. What choice did I have? Besides, I really don't think that these men were going to hurt me. I opened my mouth and began to drink.

How to describe what a potion tasted like for the first time? So many people in this strange world use it on a daily basis that I'm sure they've stopped savioring all the flavors and texture of it all. At first it feels light and weightless, as if you are drinking smoke. Then when it goes down, you feel the misty feeling warm up, but it doesn't burn. And it tastes so different, as if you are drinking flowers, vanilla, and honey, but it's not unbearably sweet either. Instead of numbing the pain, it feels as if it brings you energy. When you finish the bottle, you can feel the potion spread all throughout your body, closing wounds and restoring strength. I went from nearly dead to moving my arms without any effort at all.

If I ever come back home, I should try to bring back as many potions as I can with me. If doctors knew how fast it could heal, so many sick and injured people could be helped all over the world.

"There now, you're all better! Open your eyes."

The potion worked so quickly that I didn't even need time to adjust. I opened my eyes as soon as he told me to. I found myself looking into the face of what I actually thought was a girl before I realized it was a very young, feminine looking boy. His face was fair and pretty like a girl's, and even his hair was longer than most of the white boys I've seen at school, but he was dressed strangely. But before I could even ask why he was wearing such a thing, that's when I looked at the man who was holding me...

...And realized he was wearing a suit of armor.

"...Wh...what the..." I couldn't form words. Why were these two men, who clearly were not Muslims, here at the mosque? And then I realized I wasn't at the mosque at all. Looking beyond the two strangely dressed men, I realized I was surrounded by the largest trees I have ever seen in my life.

So many of them, towering high above me. The canopy was so thick that I couldn't even see the sky. Not even the redwood forests in California were so thick. Why on earth was I in the middle of a forest? I don't recall my hometown ever having a forest quite like this. Actually, I don't even recall any place in the state having a forest like this. While the trees looked like they were deciduous, the rest of the plants and the tallness of the trees screamed "rainforest" to me.

"What happened to you, little girl?" the boy asked me. "Did you sneak aboard the ship? It must've thrown you off when we crash landed."

A ship? Crash landing? Sneaking aboard? What was he talking about?

"Uhh... no, I didn't sneak anywhere... wait, a ship?" he looked put off by my strange expression. I was trying not to make funny faces, but after everything that had occurred, there was this permanent shocked look on my face for the next couple of minutes, if not the next couple of hours. "...We're not by a lake are we? Why would there be a ship in the forest?"

He started laughing. "Oh no, not that kind of ship. I mean an airship. You know, the ones that fly."

Potions. A man dressed as a knight. Ships that can fly. Waking up in a forest when I was blown up in a mosque.

Just when I thought nothing else could possibly throw me off after that, that is when I saw Vivi Orunitia for the first time. And with his big hat, smoky black "skin" (to this day I will never truly know what his body was made up of) and bright, glowing, yellow eyes, I thought for certain that he was a monster. Or, by Muslim standards, a _jinn_.

And I started screaming.


End file.
